Harsher In Hindsight
by Feagalad
Summary: "What...is your family some sort of super-secret, super-skilled criminals or something?" Somehow that remark was not so funny in hindsight. Rather, backed by the visuals of Sam's smiling face as he gunned down the innocent shoppers, it took on a grotesque pall of terrible foreshadowing... Set during 'Slash Fiction'/Outsider POV on the Winchesters
1. Nightmare On Sesame Street

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**Disclaimer: **What? You...you actually would entertain the thought that I own _Supernatural?_ HAHAHAHA!

* * *

Ernie Burt (yes, that is his real name...don't laugh, it's a trial) had seen many strange things throughout his years as a public defence lawyer and met many dangerous, colourful people. It was all part of the job description, really. He took on the clients who couldn't afford or hire another defender and so that naturally meant that he came into contact with thieves, forgers, and even murderers with more regularity than the average man.

But usually said murderers weren't people that he knew personally...

He had an assistant now in his office. Kelli (with an 'i', not a 'y') was perky and friendly and utterly competent. A recent graduate from one of the local business schools, she took her job very seriously while also keeping a fresh and funny eye on life. She was also the one who had installed the 48 inch flat-screen TV in the waiting room, despite Ernie's protests that it made things feel like a paediatrician's office.

It wouldn't have been half so bad if she didn't keep it tuned to the soapiest of stations all the time. What did he (or anyone else, for that matter) care about whether Brittany was sleeping with Chad while carrying RJ's child?

But it made Kelli happy and none of his clients had seemed put-off, so Ernie kept his mouth shut. It wasn't like he didn't have his own private cubicle away from the laugh-track. Life was good - his business was branching out to wills and contracts and things beyond the scum of society, he had his own private office and a wonderful assistant, and he had started dating the woman he thought might be the girl of his dreams. Alongside all of that, what was conceding to a bit of _The Young & The Restless _from time to time? He could always slip out and change the channel to the news now and then whenever Kelli wasn't looking.

Looking back, it was this status quo that got him into trouble in the first place.

He had been playing hunt-the-remote with Kelli for the umpteenth lunch break that the TV had been installed and, upon finally finding it, he had changed the channel to the news with a triumphant look at Kelli (who smirked and rolled her eyes before going back to her burrito). Good mood and status quo continued for another day, Ernie turned to go back into his office and prepare for the post-noon clients.

_"And the two men who were, up until today, declared dead..."_

Oh..._God!_

Ernie stood frozen in place, feeling a cold lump of lead settle in his stomach as the newswoman matter-of-factly read off the report. Oh God...he _knew _that face! He had once sat across from that man on the videos who laughed from behind a semi-automatic as he pinned a little girl up against the wall as a hostage. He had liked the psycho who coldly helped to gun down innocents in a bank. He had been friends with Sam Winchester.

* * *

_He had taken the class to troll for chicks (It was the equivalent of Home Economics from high school...lots of girls who had elected to take it over Shop and few guys to help the lovely ladies out), but found - much to his eternal disgust - that a lot of other guys seemed to have the same idea. Art History. Not such a great idea either, though it would give him the three credits he needed. _

_It was during the brainstorming time (that landed at him at a table by himself, aside from a girl that was most definitely not swinging his way) that Ernie met Sam Winchester. _

_Tall. Quiet. Sarcastic. Geeky. Those were all words that had been used to describe Sam before on the few times that he actually flagged on someone's radar. For such a big fellow, he was eerily good at blending into the background of a scene. The only reason Ernie knew anything about the shabbily-dressed understated genius was that his best friend, Logan, was apparently the one unlucky enough to end up as Sam's room-mate. And by 'unlucky', Ernie meant that he had been treated to several half-drunken rants about Logan's creepy-ass room-mate and his creepy-ass habits._

_Ernie privately couldn't see what had Logan's dander up so much. So Sam didn't have much more than a single duffel bag? As long as he didn't borrow Logan's stuff, that only meant that he had less junk to spread around. So Sam spread salt around the room? With Logan's snacking habits that was probably needed to discourage ants. The kick-ass knife underneath the pillow? Yeah...that was probably a little bit much. In fact, Ernie was pretty sure that was against dorm regulations. But if Sam wasn't hurting anyone with his deadly security blanket (and no one had been turning up stabbed to death so odds were he wasn't) Ernie was willing to give the guy the benefit of the doubt. Didn't mean he had to _like _him, though._

_Sam was just strange. He always walked around in shabby plaid shirts and jeans and avoided touching others in a crowd like the plague...a habit that was awkward to keep up whenever you're over six feet tall and have shoulders considerably wider than your waist. Then there was the nervous ticks, like making sure to sit with his back to a wall whenever possible and eyeing up all exits whenever he entered a room. The worst part? He didn't even seem aware that he was doing it. Sometimes he would even catch himself and look a bit upset for a moment before mentally slapping himself and moving on. It might not have been dressing in black and chanting faux-Latin over a cauldron on the full moon or anything like that, but it still gave Ernie (and Logan, apparently) the creeps._

_Not that Sam was a mean kid or particularly anti-social. On the contrary he was friendly and smart and polite to the point of obnoxiousness at times. It was just all of the other weird things that accumulated to make up one gawky personality that always seemed determined to never fit in._

_And Ernie had heard about the whole store-hold-up thing that had set the geekier side of the female population all a flutter over Winchester of all people! Apparently the Jolly Geek Giant and a few acquaintances from English Lit had been hanging out in a coffee shop whenever some gunman had come blazing in and tried to rob the place. Ernie didn't see the incident himself, but he heard from Logan who had heard from Marissa who heard it from her grapevine that Sam had coolly taken the man out (disarming the gun in the process) and held him in a joint-lock until the campus security arrived._

_Ernie heard from Logan who heard from Marissa who got it from her grapevine that Sam had been, quote, "Sooo stoic and brave about the whole thing. He's really the strong, sympathetic, silent type." And didn't Ernie's ears just ache from the falsetto voice and valley-girl accent (a perfect impersonation of Marissa, admittedly) that Logan had put on during the recounting!_

_The story had appeared (with scarcely more accuracy or credibility) in the campus newspaper...complete with a mugshot of Sam, who looked more than a little bit embarrassed, and a quote from the hero himself saying that, "Uh, well, my family moved around a lot and stayed in some pretty shady neighbourhoods. My Dad just wanted to be sure my brother and I knew how to defend ourself in-case anything, uh, happened."_

_Add that to the tale of the knife-under-pillow that Logan had encountered, and you have one bit mystery wrapped up in an enigma that was sure to fascinate and creep-out at the same time. And now Sam had apparently decided that he and Ernie should be study partners. Lovely._


	2. From Jessica to Sammy

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* * *

It hadn't been as bad as he expected it to be, really it hadn't. Sam wasn't some sort of uber-badass, secret Bond spy and neither was he a fast-talkin', fast-shootin' street rat. He was just another kid, albeit a slightly freaky one, and a bit of an unsung genius to boot (that part of the rumours was true). Maybe that's what had allowed him to play the part of normal college student for so long. He'd certainly had Ernie fooled!

* * *

_Ernie, never one to pass up on the opportunity of academic camaraderie or help, began to hang out with Sam more and more often. The dude had some seriously sick Latin skills and was good at writing up a research paper (a _coherent _research paper, no less) in three hours flat. But as time went on, Ernie found himself actually LIKING the lanky weirdo from God-knows-where._

_Sam was still strange, still a bit on the freaky side, but once the mystery aspect fell away a bit he was much more relatable. They actually had a lot it common. Sam was pre-law, just like Ernie, and was attending Stanford on a scholarship. He enjoyed reading more than a raucous night on the town (though he wasn't against socialising or drinking) and had a thing for Jessica Moore (the hot, blond pre-med student from the Humanities class that Brady had introduced them to) though he had yet to actually work up the balls to ask her out._

_They all teased him mercilessly about that, of course. He took it in stride._

_Sam was a good guy. He was clean and decent and was the sort of boy, attitude-wise, that Ernie was sure his mother _wished_ his sister would bring home for Christmas. He rarely got drunk (though that could have been more because of his awful Karaoke skills than conservatism), didn't smoke, and rarely let loose with a swear-word worse than 'hell' or 'damn'. But neither was he an ultra-straight-laced prude. Really, Ernie couldn't see what he had disliked so much about the guy before. Even _Logan_ had warmed up to Sam's charm and skill with research, though he still occasionally - when drunk - would recount the Holy Water incident where he said that he made a joke about the toilet being possessed and Sam nearly went berserk._

_Sam took that teasing in stride too with a self-deprecating grin. So they started a betting pool...debating who would actually make the first move in the Jessica Situation. Sam was clearly in head-over-heels, infatuated love with her (something Brady found particularly hilarious) and Ernie was quite sure, backed up by comments from Becky and the feminine members she and Jess had brought into their little clique, that Jess was equally interested in the resident geek superhero. It was like something out of a bad romantic comedy - they were both in love, but Sam was too humble and unsure of himself to ask her out and Jess was waiting for him to make the first move. So naturally a betting pool was set up...Brady's idea, of course, in one of his sober moments._

_In the end Logan won. He had said that it would be Jessica...and Jessica it was._

_During a pre-Spring Break party their Junior year (one that they only convinced Sam to attend by threatening an Inquisition-style burning of his books and the promise of Jessica being there), Jessica made her move._

_Brady and Sam had been hanging out by the punchbowl (Ernie was privately suspicious that Brady was hoping to spike it and Sam was keeping an eye on him...but didn't much care to be distracted by these thoughts from the redhead sitting in his lap) when Jessica, eyes flashing and looking twice as hot as usual, stalked across the dance-floor and planted herself firmly in front of Sam's 6'4 frame with her hands on her hips._

_"So...what am I supposed to think?"_

_Sam blinked, looking rather nonplussed. "Wha - ?"_

_"Oh don't give me that!" She seemed utterly unaware that many of the other party-goers (even the ones closer to the side of trashed than sober) were starting to take notice of this confrontation. It was hard not to, what with Jessica's short, sequinned dress and Sam's distinctive height sticking out like a sore thumb. "Just give me a straight answer, would you?"_

_Sam, bless him, looked torn between absolute terror and disbelieving wonder. "Jessica, I..." _

_Brady poked him in the shoulder. "Dude, just ask her out already!"_

_If he hadn't been so distracted by the redhead in his lap (Melody, he thought her name was?) shifting just then and giving him a mouthful of her hair, Ernie might have considered calling foul on Brady for skewing the pot. But between Melody's perfume and the promise of what she would give out later once they were both tipsy and giddy, Ernie was distracted from the argument long enough to miss whatever Sam had said before that Kodak moment (the one that actually DID send everyone to clapping and wolf-whistling, just like in a movie) where he seemed to give up on his gibbering and captured Jess' lips in a smouldering kiss that had Melody muttering out an appreciative "DAMN!"_

_Trust that skyscraper of a geek to be hiding a ladykiller persona somewhere under his baggy jacket. Sam Winchester was full of surprises, be it his in-depth knowledge of world mythological history or his ability to hack into email accounts that was both incredible and a bit disturbing. It seemed that, given enough time and incentive, Sam could crack just about anyone's password...except whenever it came to the one into a girl's heart, that is. Good job for Jessica! It was about _time _someone did something about all of the UST those two had been exchanging recently._

_Brady watched all these proceedings with a wide smile of most unholy glee._


	3. The Stanford Club

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* * *

_Things changed in their little circle of friends after that. It was now Sam And Jessica, together as a couple, just like it was Logan And Becky. The group didn't break up or anything drastic like that, but the dynamic certainly changed. _

_Brady snickered more than once about how Jessica was turning Sam from a geeky caterpillar to a social butterfly (accompanied by a few other lewd insinuations that left Sam red as a beet and scowling) and it was true...he finally seemed to realise that working hard and keeping his grades up didn't mean having a nose planted to the grindstone 24/7. Except for finals week. He still studied like a maniac during finals week. But everybody did that, so Ernie didn't hold it against him. At least the guy had learned how to have _some _fun!_

_Summer passed. Logan and Becky broke up (Ernie knew this because they had both called him at separate times to ask for friendly counselling), but managed to part on amicable terms. Ernie had an enjoyable summer fling with a girl from Key West. As for Sam and Jess..._

_Ernie hadn't heard from Sam all summer. Not that that was unusual - Sam had never bothered to get in contact any of the summers before - but at the same time it was just a little bit disappointing. According to Becky, Sam hadn't been calling them either. But the big clincher came whenever Ernie ran into Jess on his first day back to Stanford._

_The blond was looking a bit perturbed and Ernie pitied whatever poor soul had managed to piss her off. It took a lot to get the understanding and open-minded Jessica Moore into a rage...but she wasn't immune to irritation and anger. And she was currently moving towards the latter._

_"Ernie...have you heard from Sam recently?" She asked in a super-sweet, slightly confused tone of voice._

_Uh-oh. Trouble in paradise! "Uhhh." Ernie said, knowing that he should be looking for an escape right now before he got caught in the middle. Unfortunately...he had never been very smooth at these sort of things (maybe courtroom Law wasn't his thing after all). "Nope, no I haven't."_

_Jess' eyes flashed. "Oh really?"_

_Ernie repressed the urge to back up a few steps. "Yeah. It's nothing new, though...he never calls or anything over breaks." A really awful thought struck him just then. "Jess...haven't _you _heard from him?"_

_The girl huffed out a sigh. "Yes. Twice. He texted me twice and we chatted for a bit. But that was back in June and I haven't heard anything from him since. I've tried calling, but it always goes to voicemail and he hasn't called me back."_

_Double uh-oh. Time to put those diplomatic lawyer skills into use, Burt. "I'm sure it's nothing, Jess." He said, patting her shoulder awkwardly and hoping he was saying the right thing. "Sam hasn't forgotten about you or anything like that...he probably just got busy with his family."_

_"Too busy to even shoot me a 'Good morning' or 'Good night' text?"_

_"Family can be nuts." Not that Ernie or anyone else really knew much about Sam's family. They knew he had an older brother and that he had lived with his father (where the mother was, no one knew), but Sam didn't really talk about his home life very much. He didn't even bother going home on holidays and he never got or received phone calls. Nevertheless, this seemed to reassure Jess a bit...though Ernie still pitied Sam whenever she got her hands on him._

_"I just hope he's all right." Jess' anger seemed now to be mostly fuelled by worry. "I wanted to ask him if he wanted to move in with me this year, you know? My parents helped me with a lease on an apartment and, well, it seemed logical." She grimaced. "Do you think I scared him off somehow?"_

_As if Sam Winchester could ever be scared enough to leave Jessica Moore. Oh he was scared of her - terrified, even, that she would somehow come to her senses and leave him (Ernie had told him that he was an idiot for even thinking that), but Sam was far too deeply 'in love' to even think of that. Hell, he hadn't even _looked _at another girl even in silent, distant appreciation since he started dating Jess. Sam was definitely a dedicated man of his word and Ernie said as much._

_"Well then what's going on?" Jess frowned._

_"I guess you'll have to ask him that."_

_And speak of the devil..._

_Sam was easy to spot, shuffling his way through the crowds with that solitary, stuffed duffel bag slung over one slumped (but still ridiculously high) shoulder. Ernie saw Jess' eyes narrow and felt sure that if she hadn't been of the mind that violence coming from women was no more empowering than violence shown by men, Sam might have a slap coming his way._

_But that was before their beloved gentle giant got closer and caught sight of them, his face lighting up with that signature grin as he trudged his way up the steps. "Hey, Ernie." He said before his voice went a bit softer and worshipful as he said, "Hello, Jess," with a special smile just for her._

_Ernie resisted the urge to roll his eyes, instead getting ready to step in if things got too ugly between the lovely blond and the clueless idiot._

_Fortunately, it didn't look like his services would be needed. Sam looked _awful_. __He stood with more than his usual slouch and his clothes (always a bit shabby and loose...the guy had worn the same plaid shirt on-and-off for four years now) hung off of him ill-fitting and unflatteringly baggy. He looked tired and haggard and extremely worn down._

_"Jesus, man. You sick?" Ernie demanded at the same time that Jess said. "Oh Sam...what the hell happened to you?"_

_He blinked. "What? Do I have something on my face?"_

_Jess glared. "Yes, as a matter of fact you do." She said firmly. "Dark circles under your eyes that make you look like you went twelve rounds with Rocky. You okay?"_

_"Yeah, I'm fine." Sam tried another smile that ended up looking like more of a grimace. "I'm just tired."_

_"Closer to exhausted." Bless Jessica Moore - that girl just didn't give up. _

_Ernie was feeling the concern too...he had never seen Sam looking so run-down and unhealthy. Though, now that he thought about it, Sam hadn't looked so good at the beginning of last year either, going by the way Becky had fussed over him. What was he doing over the summer? Trying to break the Guinness World Record for sleep deprivation? __"Dude - you look worse than Logan did last year around finals time."_

_There was another pained grin. "Just been busy. Crazy work schedule this summer and all that. And the neighbours were partying all night last night."_

_"Well why didn't you and your brother go tell 'em off or something? That's what _my _family does whenever someone starts getting too rowdy." And Ernie had no doubt that Sam and his probably equally muscled and tall brother could put the fear of Winchester into whatever creeps they ran into. Goodness only knows he had done it without even trying to Ernie and Logan for a whole year._

_Sam's face closed off and he laughed bitterly. "Yeah...'cause I'm going to call Dean and make him come in from God-knows-what-state he's currently driving through, just to have him tell-off my deadbeat and drunken neighbours." The sarcasm was biting._

_Jessica was frowning. "Didn't you go home for the summer?"_

_He snorted. "Nah. Why would I? S'not like I exactly have a home to go back to or - " He caught their shocked faces and quickly amended his statement, "I just mean that we don't really have a house or fixed location. Dad moves a lot for his work and so does Dean. Who knows where they are right now."_

* * *

That should have been a clue right there that something was wrong. Not that Ernie had thought a whole lot of Sam over the years since Stanford...but whenever he had thought about his former friend he had occasionally wondered just _what _was wrong with the Winchester family. Why was Sam always so hesitant to talk about them (except whenever someone actually managed to get him drunk...when he would tell some _very interesting _stories) and never went home, preferring instead to stay in the scuzzy part of town in a broken-down apartment and work himself nearly to the bone, just for enough cash to survive. Oh yes, Jess had eventually wrangled the whole story out of him. _"A full-ride doesn't cover summer break, Jess. So I have to try and find a job every year so I can pay rent."_ Upon that explanation of his general awful appearance (that nearly sent Becky into a apoplectic _fit _whenever she saw him), Sam proceeded to clam up and say nothing more about it. He was terribly good at misdirection, Ernie remembered, and now - as he watched the news reports about the Winchesters (called the Brothers Grimm by the news media) - he couldn't help but wonder just what else Sam had been hiding beneath that self-deprecating smile.


	4. Poker Face

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* * *

Ernie stared up at the report in silent horror, half taking in the security footage of Sam tying a screaming blond girl to a chair so his brother could test out the cutlery section of a gourmet cooking shop and half lost in old memories of Sam blushingly making a flower chain and weaving it into Jess' hair. He tried to reconcile the same image of floppy-haired, weird, sweet Sam with the smirking, cold-blooded killer that was mugging for the security camera in the found footage of the attack.

He couldn't do it. The Sam he remembered was quiet and studious and hopelessly in love with Jessica and, while there had always been an air of strangeness about him, he'd never seemed _dangerous_. Or had he just hidden it this well...?

* * *

_Not long after the whole 'summer break' discussion (Sam really was an idiot - working himself to the bone just so he wouldn't have to go home) Sam moved in with Jessica and the two of them set up a merry little love-nest in a shabby but respectable apartment._

_Turns out Sam, presumably making up for the radio silence over the summer, was more the attentive boyfriend than ever. He walked Jessica to and from places, made a stab at housecleaning (much to her amusement), made a much more successful stab at cooking, and just generally worshipped the ground she walked on. He had it BAD, as Brady gleefully pointed out over beers and TV one night. Logan promptly suggested a betting pool on whether Sam would propose after graduation or before. Brady seconded the motion and they spent the rest of the evening debating whether to let Becky in on the pot or not._

_Brady said not, she'd only tell Jess, but Logan was all for it. That left Ernie to break the tie. Damn._

* * *

They had all been so innocent back then. It had never even occurred to them that things could end in another way. When Brady waltzing in one day and pronounced that Sam had been ogling the engagement ring sale at a local jewellers set them all to laughingly accusing him of skewing the pot they never dreamed that things would end in tragedy. But not two months later, Jess was dead and Sam...Sam was different.

* * *

_"Damn, damn, shit, shit, Goddammit!" _

_Logan paced back and forth across the kitchenette, swearing blue and green. Ernie just sat stunned. _

_Last night, while they had been partying and exploiting the new X-Box downstairs, Sam and Jess had almost burnt alive in their apartment._

_Well...Jess really had burnt. News was that Sam had been saved alone. Oh GOD! Was this a nightmare? It had to be a nightmare. Please let it be a nightmare?__  
_

_The phone rang._

_"Hello?"_

_"Eeeernieeee...ish that you?"_

_"Brady? What the hell?"_

_"Didcha hear th-the news?" He hiccuped and stumbled, judging by the sound._

_Ernie frowned. "Brady...are you drunk?"_

_There was a giggle. "An' high. Its absholut-lutely brilliant. Why didn't I think o'thish 'fore?"_

_Good God...he was slurring worse than Daffy Duck! Ernie exchanged a look with Logan, who had cut off his rant the minute the phone had rang. "Brady? Where are you?" He asked and put the phone on speaker. Maybe they couldn't do anything for Sam right now (if Ernie knew the guy at all he probably just wanted to be left alone for a while) but they could take up his mantel and go give their friend a clean, safe place to sleep off his latest drugs, sex, and booze binge._

_How Brady was graduating at all was anyone's guess._

* * *

They never had found out what caused the fire in the apartment. The official report was that wiring in the ceiling from a lighting fixture had set off the blaze...but somehow that explanation just didn't sit right with Ernie. Even now he could remember Jess complaining that there _were no_ lighting fixtures in that apartment. She and Sam had spent quite a bit of money on a plethora of lamps to keep their little love-nest lit up as they burned the college midnight oil. And now that he thought about it, the fact that Sam had agreed to that assessment instead of demanding they investigate further to discover the truth was deeply troubling.

Numbly, Ernie changed the channel back to Kelli's soaps and, zombie-like, walked back into his office. He had to compose himself before the clients started coming back in. Tonight he would call in a few favours from colleagues in the police and try to find out a bit more about what the hell was happening with Sam. But for now...he had to focus.

* * *

_"Focus, Ernie! C'mon!"_

_"Come on, Ernie, you can do it!"_

_Ernie's hands sweated as he clutched the cue and looked into the shark-like grin of Sam Winchester. He had been well and truly played...who knew Sam was so good at hustling or whatever they called it? He had been _terrible _the first few games - embarrassingly awful - and Ernie had assumed, as had most others, that nerdy Sam Winchester had never played a game of pool in his life. _

_Maybe he should have guessed, given that super-obsessive-budgeter Sam Winchester bet more money than he had in his pocket (and probably his bank account) and was currently still betting in an effort to get it back. Ernie, taking pity on the poor guy who - despite his size - was a lightweight who was slurring after two beers, had taken over and offered to play against Sam...planning on splitting the pot with Jessica later, just so he wouldn't offend Sam's pride. Turns out instead he was having his ass handed to him as Sam flipped a switch and began to prove just how _good _he really was. _

_Needless to say, by the end of the night Sam was the victor and happily counting a couple hundred bucks into his wallet. Turns out he wasn't as bad or as drunk as he had made out. They had all been well-and-truly suckered. By a geek, no less._

_Logan, snickering at Ernie's misfortune, clapped Sam on the back. "Good show there, pal!" He said. "If I didn't know better I'd say this was what you did for a living!"_

_Sam's smile froze for a second before he laughed too, shuffling embarrassedly. "Nah. Not every crowd is as good of losers as they are here." He said. "In some of the places you would hustle, you'd run the risk of getting a royal ass-kicking."_

_"Where'd you learn to play like that anyway?"_

_This time Sam's smile was more genuine, if a bit sadly nostalgic. "My brother, Dean. He's a real pool, poker, and barmaids type of guy...so I guess he considered it his brotherly duty to teach me how to hustle." Sam chuckled...sounding a bit rueful. "He learned from our dad, I think."_

_"Dude, your family is SO cool!" Logan said, echoing Ernie's sentiment. _

_Sam just shrugged, getting ready to leave. "Well, what are you gonna do? Dean said it was helping contribute to the family coffers since Dad couldn't exactly hold down a stable job. The amount of times we've gotten into fights!" Clearly he was at least a_ little _bit tipsy if he was talking this much about the elusive Family Winchester._

_Logan snorted. _"_What_...is_ your family some sort of super-secret, super-skilled criminals or something?"_

* * *

Somehow that remark was not so funny in hindsight. Rather, backed by the visuals of Sam's smiling face as he gunned down the innocent shoppers, it took on a grotesque pall of terrible foreshadowing...


	5. Big Brother, Mama Bear

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* * *

_"Sam and Dean Winchester were born in Lawrence, Kansas to John Henry Winchester and Mary Elaine Campbell-Winchester..."_

Oh God.

Ernie snatched a beer and downed half of the can in one gulp. He might as well start getting trashed now - he had a feeling that he was going to need to move on to the harder stuff pretty soon.

It was just his luck (bad or good, depending on how you look at it) that tonight there was a special about the Winchesters. If Ernie had believed in Fate or God or any kind of higher power at all, he would have been suspicious that this coincidence was not all that it seemed. But as it stood, Ernie was prepared to get utterly drunk and maybe, if he was lucky, he could either figure out or utterly forget the debacle concerning his former friend whose mugshot was currently staring out of the TV screen, looking weary and annoyed.

Maybe drinking on an empty stomach wasn't wise...but it was a Friday and he had no appetite for anything else as the show started airing the dirty (DIRTY) laundry of the mysterious Winchesters all over the media.

It was a painful story. Sam was the younger of two sons born to an ex-marine whose mother had died in a house fire when he was six months old (Ernie suddenly felt guilty for all of the 'Yo Mama' jokes that Brady had delighted in) and whose father had apparently had a psychotic break. Whoever it was that had done the research for this documentary had certainly done their research...it would probably make more sense if he was sober.

_"...Sam and Dean Winchester are, at their heart, merely two frightened little boys trying to find their place in the world. After the fire in their Kansas home, the broken Winchester family went on the road and fell almost entirely off the grid. The only record we have of their continued existence on this earth is from various school records and testimonials from teachers and friends who paint a picture of two smart, troubled boys..."_

Sam...oh Sam. Ernie was most certainly _not _crying a little bit into his whisky as he listened to the oh-so dramatic narrator tell a story of a life spent on the road, new schools every couple of months, unexplained injuries, dodging the CPS, and just generally every possible check-box for an unhealthy childhood that one could come up with. No WONDER Sam had come off as so strange! No wonder he had had to work himself half to death during the summers so he wouldn't have to go home. His family was messed up! And it wasn't like he was coming from a lot of money. He had gone to Stanford on a full-ride...and suddenly the obsessive need for perfect grades made more sense. If he had lost his scholarship, he would have been out on his ear to go crawling back to his family.

Although...why _had _Sam left for Stanford if he had been brainwashed into that presumably criminal way of life since he was six months old? Had he finally snapped...pushing back against his doubtlessly strict father? Or was there something else going on?

Ernie kept watching, eyes glued to the TV set by the fact that he was learning more about his former friend in an hour than he had in the three years he had known Sam. Of course this was all speculation...loose facts put together from testimonials and various, scattered records. The lawyer side of Ernie pointed out that none of this would hold up in court, but the shocked and concerned friend drank it all in - trying to make sense of it all.

The hardest thing to watch was the pictures from the burnt-out apartment.

_"There is reason to suppose that maybe this fire was not the accident that we all believed it to be. Similarities with the blaze in the Lawrence household exactly 22 years prior cannot be ignored and we find ourselves asking...who set fire to Sam Winchester's apartment. Was it the father, punishing his son for continued defiance? Was it Dean, desperate to do anything to draw his little brother back into the family fold? Or was it Sam himself, having been reminded on that road trip of just how jolly the Winchester way of life was and feeling a need to stage a break-out from the constrains of respectable society? Short of questioning the brothers themselves, we will probably never know..."_

_Oh Jesus!_ Ernie had to resist the urge to vomit right then and there. Perhaps getting smashed hadn't been such a good idea after all. No way could Sam have done that to Jess. He worshipped the ground she walked on! He was looking at wedding rings! He was...he was raised as a criminal.

Suddenly it made all too much sense and Ernie wasn't sure whether to be sick, enraged, or sorrowful that the friend he thought he had known really had been just a mask. Poor Jess!

* * *

_It had been five days since the fire and no one had seen hide or hair of Sam. They didn't even know where he was staying. Jess' parents had come in for a memorial service. A _private _memorial service just for family._

_Not that Ernie was complaining. It was all too fresh and painful to even consider going and sitting through a service where people would be crying and chocking out little vignettes of remembrance and displaying pictures and...well...he was glad that they were not invited._

_"Hello? Sam?"_

_"Who the hell is this?" The voice on the other end of the line was rough and not at all friendly. Ernie swallowed._

_"I'm Ernie Burt...Sam's friend?"_

_There was a snort, doubtlessly at his name, but Ernie found he didn't have the energy to bristle just now._

_"Yeah? What d'ya want?"_

_Mr. Tough Guy wasn't taking the hint. Ernie tried to make himself sound harmless and urgent. __"Look. I really need to talk with Sam."_

_"Sam's not available to come to the phone right now."_

_"But - "_

_"Look, Muppet, anything you need to tell Sam you can tell me. I'm his brother. I'll make sure he gets the message if it's really important."_

_So THIS was the mysterious 'Dean' Sam had talked about from time to time (usually while drunk...he rarely spoke of his family while sober). Ernie couldn't say that he was impressed and he was sure it came through in his tone. "Just, um, I just called to say how sorry I am about Je-"_

_"Don't." Dean's teeth were clenched from the sounds of it."Don't say sorry like it was your fault. The last thing the kid needs is to start blaming himself for you all too."_

* * *

Now that had been a strange thing to say. Ernie hadn't thought much of it at the time...but now he couldn't help but wonder. He didn't _want _to think the worst of Sam. But that seed of doubt, planted by the initial news report and watered by the trip down memory lane, was threatening to blossom into a full flower of terrible realisation. He didn't _want _to believe that Sam had been anything other than the devoted, geeky boyfriend that he had appeared as...but the evidence, circumstantial as it was, seemed to lean more on the 'guilty' side of coincidence rather than 'not guilty'. After all, no one (_no one) _could be THAT unlucky with THAT many 'wrong place at the wrong time' issues. It just didn't happen.

He thought back to the first week after Jess' death. The memories were still painful, even after all this time, though the initial sting had dimmed...he hoped to maybe find the answer there. He had talked with Dean Winchester, after all.

* * *

_"We're having a fire on the beach as a student memorial for her tonight and we just want to know if Sam wants to co - "_

_"Why the HELL would Sam want to come to a FIRE for his dead girlfriend who BURNT TO DEATH?!" The tone of those last words may have been soft (a hissing sort of whisper, to be exact) but they might as well have been shouted, so much scorn and bile was communicated by them. Ernie suddenly felt very ashamed of himself._

_Maybe a memorial fire for Jess was a little bit insensitive...but how were they to know that Big Brother would react that way? Who did he think he was anyway? He had been gone for four years and left Sam to struggle his way through summer breaks. Yeah maybe Sam hadn't exactly been tight with his family during that time...but they should have at least _tried _to communicate, right? Hadn't Dean supposedly showed up a couple of times here and there, according to Logan? What happened?_

_"So...should we plan on Sam coming?"_

_There was a derisive snort. "Hell no! Aside from the fact that you are about the most insensitive jerks I have ever met with that holier-than-thou sympathy stick WAY too far up your asses, we'll be at least a state away by the time you get the kindling lit."_

_"What?"_

_"You heard me. Now buzz off."_

_And with that Dean hung up._


	6. One Is Silver & The Other Gold

.

* * *

_"...looking back at it, we all knew that there was something seriously wrong with Sam. Guess we just couldn't let ourselves realise what."_

Ernie ground his teeth together and resisted the urge to punch something. That lying, cheating little media whore! Before he knew what he was doing, he snatched up his cell phone and found the contact that he hadn't used for over two years. "Hello, Logan?" He said when his old college friend picked up on the other end. "Are you seeing what I'm seeing?"

"Ernie Burt...are you drunk?" Good old Logan, cutting right to the chase despite their lengthy lack of communication. "I'm not going to have to stage a Brady-esque intervention here, am I?"

"Did you see what's TV tonight?"

Logan became deadly serious. "You talking about the Winchesters? Yeah. I saw. Kinda hard to avoid."

"But did you see it?"

"No, man, you know I can't stand that sensationalist crap they put out these days." The irony of _Logan _of all people saying that brought a sad smile to twist Ernie's face. Logan had been the one to first notice Sam Winchester's freakiness in school. Turns out, he may have been more perceptive than they thought.

"Well you should. Turn it on...an old friend is speaking now."

He waited for a moment while Logan swore under his breath and, judging by the grunts and muffled crashes, searched for the remote. The TV clicked on.

"SON OF A BITCH!"

* * *

The interviewer was _still _talking. Marissa (looking, Ernie noted with a bit of nasty satisfaction, twice as old as she should - thanks to the spray tan) stood there with a stoic, plastic smile as she recounted into the camera the story of how she met the infamous Sam Winchester in a shop where he fought off a gunman in a manner that should have tipped them all off about his dark upbringing. And about how she had never trusted him.

Logan snorted over the phone-line. "Well sure didn't seem that way to me when she was all starry-eyed and gaga over the tall geek." He said. "I had to listen to her dreamily sigh over him for days...and I was her _boyfriend_!"

"Yeah. I remember." Ernie said. "You don't really think what they're saying is true, do you?"

"Which part? The story of his childhood or the 'true' tale of his Stanford years?"

"Both."

There was a pause during which Ernie could almost see Logan scratching his chin (and wondered if the other man still had that goatee) before replying. "I think that it's a load of sensationalist crap trying to make a few bucks off of the recent...crime spree by the Brothers Grimm." It did not escape Ernie's attention that Logan seemed to be adverse to referring to Sam Winchester by name. Too many painful memories? "But I'd wager that a lot of the talk about his childhood is probably pretty close to true. Trust me, I lived with the guy for a year. He definitely had a few screws loose upstairs. He slept with a knife under his pillow, for God's sake! There's other things too that I remember about him that just add up only too well with the story they're trying to spin here. I'm sure you've noticed."

"And the stuff about Jess?"

Ernie could almost hear Logan flinch over the phone-lines. Eight years on and that was still hurtful to think about.

Logan sighed. "I dunno, Ernie. I don't want to believe it but...it's such a strange coincidence. You met that brother of his, right?"

"God yeah. When he chewed me out for inviting Sam to Jess' memorial fire, remember?"

"I suppose that _was _pretty inconsiderate of us."

"Ya think?"

"So..do you really think Dean would be able to kill his brother's girlfriend like that?"

Ernie sighed. "Didn't you see the news reports today, dude?"

"Yeah. I saw them. But I'm not asking some news reporter that I wouldn't know from Bart Simpson - I'm asking _you. _You met the guy..."

"Hardly." Ernie retorted, watching sadly as Sam's picture from his student ID card came up on the screen...floppy-haired and big-eyed as he remembered. A sharp contrast with the Sam of the news report. "I spoke with him on the phone once. And Dean spent most of his time snarling at me. Still - I'd believe that he was the murderer before I'd believe it of Sam."

* * *

The report went on, delving deeper into the realm of wild guessing and chance coincidence to try and paint a picture of the Winchesters' lives post-Stanford. It was painful to watch. According to this, the entire time that Sam had been emailing them and slowly drifting further and further away, he and his brother were on a celebratory cross-country crime spree that, while it was less-well-documented than their most recent one, had certainly been no less deadly. Horror stories were told of young girls with their hearts ripped out, desecrated graves, women bound and tortured, and deaths of every method and type imaginable following the Winchesters across America.

Becky had been one of the tortured women and she staunchly refused to give an interview (unlike that attention-grubbing traitor, Marissa), saying that she had given her statement once and should very much like to move on with her life. Ernie couldn't blame her and made a pact with Logan that they would get in contact with her as soon as this was over.

Ernie and Logan stayed on the line as this went on, switching to laptops and Skype. It was a shame that the very thing that would bring them back together after so many years was the ruination of their former friend's name and the final nail in the coffin of the olden days.

But then...

"Ernie - please tell me you're not seeing this too." Logan's voice shook a bit (it had been a stressful day on all of them...it's not a little matter whenever you discover that one of your best friends was actually a murderous psychopath in hibernation).

Oh _God_. "Yeah. I am."

There on the screen, looking pallid and harsh in the light of a mortuary documentary photograph, was the body of their friend. Tyson Brady may have been an ass and a drunkard ever since he came back for sophomore year a bit screwed up in the head, but he had been their _friend_! Oh the parties and the betting pools they had organised together! The late-night study groups he had crashed with his vodka and girly beer shots! The times he had crashed on their sofa because he was too drunk to see straight. They had stuck together through thick and thin, dammit! And now he was dead? Dead a good four years ago? With Sam's fingerprints and DNA found on the scene of the crime?!

A cold, hard lump of horror - rather like congealed glue - gathered in the pit of Ernie's stomach, simmering over the heat of rage. Damn Sam! Damn him! They had trusted him. They had _liked _him. And what had he done? He had betrayed them!


	7. Meet Me In St Louis

.

* * *

"Hey, Becky."

"Ernie? Is that you?"

"The one and only. You home...Logan and I are in town."

"What the hell are you doing here?"

* * *

_"What the hell are you doing here?"_

_Jess didn't even scold Logan about his abrupt manner to her, instead shoving her way past and into the living room where Ernie was hurriedly gathering wrappers and beer cans off of the sofa and praying that Logan had remembered to put his boxers away. It was just Jess, after all, but that didn't mean they had to parade their unmentionables about. Especially when she was so clearly distressed._

_"What's wrong, Jess?"_

_The blond chewed on a fingernail for a moment, accepting the cold beer that Logan offered her. "I...I don't know that anything's wrong, actually. It's just a feeling."_

_Ernie cracked open his own beer. "Well spill." He said. "But if it's about you and Sam having issues in the bedroom, you might want to seek out a therapist instead."_

_Jess smirked. "Oh there's no danger of that." She said slyly, just as Logan was taking a swig of beer._

_After much choking and spluttering (and laughter from Ernie) Logan wiped his chin and glared at their friend. "Thanks for that, thanks _so _much! I'm going to be the one needing the therapy now!"_

_"Nothing new there then."_

_"Oh shut up."_

_Jess was giggling now, Ernie noticed. Mission accomplished._

_"Guys...knock it off. You're going to give me hiccups!"_

_"Pray forgive us, my lady, for we are but two clumsy oafs." Logan intoned, hand over heart._

_Ernie snorted. "Speak for yourself." He said, ignoring Logan's one-fingered salute. "So, Jess, what's the problem. Anything we can help with?"_

_The girl sobered immediately and sighed. "I'm not entirely certain that there is a problem...and that's the problem." She said, twirling the bottle between her fingers. "You know?"_

_"Well why don't you start from the beginning?" Logan said gently, putting his psychiatry training to good use (why he had changed his major from biology to that was anyone's guess...but Ernie had to admit he was good at it.)_

_"It's been a strange day." Jess took a fortifying sip of beer and rubbed her forehead. She looked tired, Ernie noticed. Tired and stressed out...not unusual for finals time, but those were over and she had looked fine just yesterday. "Sam left last night."_

_"He did _what_?!"_

_Her eyes snapped around to Logan. "What? Oh...oh God, no. Not like that." She shook her head vigorously. "He's coming back. We're not breaking up or anything like that. It's just...his brother showed up."_

_Well Ernie hadn't seen that one coming._

_"His brother?"_

_"Yes. Dean Winchester, in the flesh. Somehow he was shorter than I imagined, though." Jess said, speaking softly. "You know Sam doesn't talk about his family a whole lot, but I recognised Dean straight away. Cocky grin and leather jacket, just like Sam said."_

_"So," Logan frowned, "Sam left with his brother?"_

_Jess nodded. "Dean broke into our apartment late last night after we got home from the Halloween party..."_

_"Which I'm surprised you convinced Sam to go to, by the way." Ernie cut in. "He's always such a stick-in-the-mud about it."_

_She smiled faintly. "I promised him I'd wear the nurse outfit if he was a good boy."_

_"Anyway." Logan tried again to steer the conversation back on track. Ernie almost felt sorry for being a distraction. Almost. At least he had gotten Jess to smile._

_"It was just strange. At first Sam was all 'anything you have to say you can say in front of her' and all that - you know how he gets - but then Dean mentioned something about their father being on a hunting trip and Sam went real, real quiet and took the conversation outside to the alley. I couldn't hear anything, even though they seemed to be arguing."_

_"You listened in?"_

_She shot Logan a look. "When a man breaks into my apartment in the middle of the night and wrestles my boyfriend to the ground before declaring himself to be his brother and starting off in some sort of cryptic code to get me out of the room, of course I'm going to damn well listen in! I wasn't letting Sam go off with anyone by himself, so I sat by the window with my hand on the phone."_

_"And did you call the cops?"_

_"No. I probably should have, given what little we know about the Winchester family, but I didn't. God help me, I just couldn't. I don't think Sam would ever forgive me and Dean didn't seem all _that_ bad."_

_Logan took a drink. "So what's eating at you?"_

_Jess looked like she was longing to wring her hands. "I don't know, really I don't. But something just doesn't feel right about this little road trip."_

* * *

"...Ernie? You okay, man?"

Ernie blinked and came out of his flashback to see Logan and Becky both looking at him in concern. "Sorry, what?"

"You with us?"

"Uh...yeah. Why?"

Logan snorted. "Because you sort of zoned out for a minute there, bud. What's wrong - not enough caffeine this morning?"

"Something like that, yeah." Ernie said, trying to crack a smile. "Just got sucked down memory lane in la-la land, that's all. Where were we?"

Becky rolled her eyes. "I was asking what the hell you two are doing on my front step. Not that it isn't nice to see you and all...but seriously, what the hell?"

"Let us in will you, Becks?" Logan wheedled, putting on a rather scarily-accurate impression of the patented Sam Winchester puppy-dog eyes.

_Nope, no. Don't think of Sam just yet. You don't need another flashback_. "So, Becky. How've you been?"

She shrugged, stepping back to let her friends into the house. "Fine. Just the same old same old. The parents are due home tomorrow, so try not to mess up the carpet? I just vacuumed." Logan and Ernie grimaced and toed off their shoes. Becky grinned. "I know, I know...your socks are probably more dangerous to my quest for cleanliness than your street shoes would be. Just humour me, okay?" She headed for the kitchen. "Can I get you something to drink? Lemonade? Water? Beer?"

"Beer for me." Ernie said at the same time that Logan said. "Just water, thanks."

"What?" He said when he received two incredulous looks. "The doctor's been nagging me to lay off the booze. Something about liver issues. I'm doing well."

"Well far be it from me to push you off the wagon." Becky said, returning with one lemonade, one water, and one beer. "Cheers!"

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, each enjoying their drink and lost in thought, before Becky sighed and spoke up. "All right, guys, what is it?"

Exchanging a look with Ernie, Logan began to talk. "Becky?" He said. "We need to ask you about Dean Winchester."


	8. You Can't Handle The Truth

.

* * *

Becky looked troubled. "What...what would you want to ask me about Dean?"

"Didn't you see the special last night?"

"Oh, _that_." Now she was chewing on her lip and Ernie felt rather bad for invading her life and calling up bad memories again. "There isn't anything to tell."

"Really, Becky?" Logan said, voice gentle. "Because somehow I just can't believe that Sam would cover up his brother's assault on you any more than I can believe he could be a murderer. We all knew Sam...and that special was a load of absolute crap, right, Ernie?"

Ernie nodded. "Yeah. Half of that evidence is circumstantial at best. It would never even make it to court...something else is going on here and we were hoping that you could help us find out what."

Their friend fidgeted. "What do you want to know?"

Ernie and Logan exchanged a look. There was really no delicate way to go about this, so Ernie threw Logan under the bus and decided to make him use that degree in counselling (one of the most bewildering personality vs. career choices Ernie knew of) to broach the subject in a sensitive way that wouldn't worsen the situation. Already, with the mere mention of Dean Winchester's name, the air of joyous reunion had been sucked right out of the room and replaced with a tense, uncomfortable pall.

"Becky. Did Dean really attack you?"

_Wow. Real smooth, Mr. __Councillor_. Ernie winced right along with Becky and wondered if the sudden, forced proximity together was making them revert to their Stanford personalities.

Becky was blinking very fast and looking at everyone but them, clear tells of a lie about to be told, Ernie's brain supplied.

"I don't know what you're talking about." She said, twisting her hands in her lap.

"We saw the program, Becks." Logan leaned forward and clasped his hands like he was talking to a patient. "You don't have to lie to us. Did Dean Winchester attack you?"

"No! Well...sort of, but no, I mean...you wouldn't understand."

"Try us."

"No. I mean you wouldn't believe me."

"I heard your statement." Ernie said, trying to be firm but compassionate and maybe channel a bit of Logan's 'Spidey Sense' counselling skills that seemed to get when he had made a blunder and when to keep pushing or pulling back. "You said that Dean Winchester attacked you in your house and then turned on Sam whenever he tried to protect you before Sam shot Dean in the chest. That much is supported by evidence."

"Oh God." Becky grimaced. "Yes, I did say that...because Dean told me to go along with that story."

_What the hell?_ "Dean forced to you help him fake his death? Why didn't you come to us, Becky? Whatever he's got on you, we could have helped."

"Whatever he's - you think he's _blackmailing _me?!"

Ernie shared another look with Logan. "Well, yes, that's the only reason I could think of that you would be helping someone like that." He didn't mention that part of the feature last night (the part that made Logan say that they should fly down to see Becky _today_) was several interviews with 'victims' and with different psychiatrists who said that the Winchesters were charismatic and psychotic enough that most of the people they left alive seemed to be duped, conned, or traumatised into developing the strangest case of Stockholm Syndrome. They actually believed that Sam and Dean had saved them from something...though they could never quite say what. They either refused to comment further or spouted off nonsensical tales about possessed laundromats and killer VHS players.

"No, no. Dean doesn't...I mean...I haven't even heard from him or Sam for years. Not since...since that night."

Both men did their best to look earnest. "We don't want to call up bad memories for you, Becky." Logan said, patting her knee comfortingly. "But we do really want to know what happened. We just can't believe that...that Sam could be in on such a dreadful thing."

"You've seen the news reports."

"Yes. But we want to know why. And knowing your story really could help us."

Becky smiled shakily. "What, Ernie, you going to take on the Winchester case and clear their name?"

"Hell no!" Ernie snorted. "For starters their kind aren't my department any more and it's very unlikely that they'll be arrested in any town close to my jurisdiction (nor could they probably afford me) so no. I just want to know what's going on."

"So will you tell us, please, Becky? We're here for you, no matter what."

"That's sweet, Logan." Becky took a fortifying drink of lemonade. "Damn. I'd have gone for something stronger if I knew this was what you wanted to talk about." She was delaying, no question about it.

"Becky."

"What do you want to know? If it's about that night, I don't think you'll believe me."

Logan laughed easily. "Aw, Becks, have some faith. Short of you telling us that it actually _was _a shapeshifter-thingy wearing Dean's face or something like that load of hooey he told the Baltimore cops, we're here to listen. We've got open minds."

Becky was silent, looking like she was torn between laugh-sobbing and punching something. Preferably Logan.

Ernie felt something cold settle in the pit of his stomach. "Becky...you _weren't _going to say that, were you?"

She looked away, chewing on her lip again. "I don't want to talk about it."

"You were, weren't you?"

Logan's mouth fell open. "Hell, Becky, I'm sorry." He said gently, his 'talking-to-disturbed-patient' voice making a comeback and taking over 'easy-going, open-minded friend'.

"Don't." Becky looked up and glared at him. "Don't talk to me like I'm one of your basket cases, Logan. Don't you ever do that...not you two. I know what I saw and I know what attacked me. It's my life, I think I would know."

"Okay, okay!" Logan held up both hands soothingly. "It's fine, Becky, we'll listen. Just give us some time to wrap our heads around it, yeah?"

Becky nodded, trying to smile. "Sure, sure. Do you have some place to stay tonight?"

"We figured we'd find a hotel or something. It was sort of a hasty travel decision."

"Well why don't you stay here? My parents won't be home until late tomorrow and our guest room is always open. You two can draw lots on who gets the bed and who gets the couch."

Ernie was touched. They'd invaded her life and her privacy and she was still offering them a place to stay. Classic Becky. "If you're sure."

"Why the hell would I ask you if I wasn't?"

Logan smiled. "Well at least let us provide dinner."

"You cook?"

"Of course not...we wouldn't want a repeat of the torching olives, would we? Let's do take-out and keep your kitchen nice and clean. Anything you can recommend?"

"Well there's a place called Connor's Diner about twenty minutes away from here. I'm told it has the best bacon cheeseburgers in America."


	9. Right Under Your Nose

.

* * *

"Best burgers in all of America, eh?"

Logan shrugged, eyes trained on his phone. "I guess, from what Becky said." The sound of screams and gunshots sounded tinnily though the tiny speakers and Ernie sighed.

"Are you really going to torture yourself by watching that damn thing over and over?"

"I just...I just still can't believe it, Ernie." Ernie's friend sighed. "I keep thinking about it, trying to find something that doesn't add up. Something that would indicate that we've all been taken in by a terrible, cosmic joke. I don't _want _to believe that Sam would do something like this...no matter how weird and freaky he always was."

"Yeah, I know."

The two friends walked along in silence for a while before Ernie spoke up again. "Logan?" He said. "Do you really think that asking Becky about Dean Winchester is a good idea? I mean...surely we have all the information we could possibly need! You saw that news report. Are we doing the right thing by bugging Becky about this? I just feel like a major douchebag."

"She needs to talk about it, that's obvious. You heard her...shapeshifter my ass! It's a common misdirection of memory technique, coming up with wild and fantastical explanations for the things that your mind can't comprehend properly. I don't blame her either - she and Sam were really close. If we have a hard time comprehending what we see, imagine how awful it must have been for her!"

"I can't imagine. Just like I can't quite believe that Sam would do all those awful things. I don't know what to think."

"We'll find the answer, Ernie." Logan said. "Becky will talk, we just have to be sensitive about it." He caught Ernie's look and mock-scowled. "Hey! I'll have you know that I have a degree in listening to people!"

"Uh-huh. And then you charge them for it."

"Wrong time of the year to be quoting _The Santa Clause_, isn't it?"

"Oh shut up. Let's just go check out the Connor's Diner!"

* * *

Ernie and Logan found their way to the diner and went straight in, appreciatively inhaling the aroma of greasy potatoes that every establishment like this seemed to live in. "I wonder what their special on pie is." Logan said, peering at the menu board. "If it's lemon meringue, I might just have to kill someone."

"If you do, I'll take your case."

"Thanks. You're a pal."

"And what can I get you boys today?" The waitress (appropriately named 'Candy') smiled as she balanced two plates (one with a burger and one with a salad) on one arm. "Just take a seat and I'll be over to get your order." She headed towards the two plaid-wearing, lean, mean, muscle machines sitting on the barstools. Probably a couple of truckers who thought they were 'so it' because they lifted weights. _God_.

The friends exchanged a look. "Pick a booth, Logan." Ernie said. "I wouldn't say no to a cold Coke while we work out the best way to talk to Becky."

* * *

"...And we'd like three burger specials to go, please."

Candy smiled. "Sure thing, sugar. How long d'you think you'll be here? I'll have Joe get it ready for whenever you leave."

"Oh..." Logan glanced at Ernie and then at the clock. "We'll probably stick around for about half an hour or so. Gotta savour the soda, after all."

"Sounds fine by me."

Ernie raised an eyebrow as Logan followed Candy's rear back to the kitchen. "Dude! She's old enough to be your mother!"

Logan shrugged. "No harm in looking, is there? Besides, did you _see _those legs?!"

"Whatever." Ernie shrugged. "I didn't exactly notice."

"Oh, right, because you're dating someone right now. Bethany was her name?"

"Yup. Redhead...absolutely gorgeous. We're going to combine households next week. She's finally agreed to that step."

"Damn! Lucky you."

He couldn't help the soppy smile on his face. "Yeah. Lucky me."

Now it was Logan's turn to raise an eyebrow and roll his eyes. "Anyway...Becky. How are we going to do this? We have to be firm but gentle."

"Hey..._you're _the resident psychiatrist/councillor! I was hoping you would have some ideas."

"Geeze, thanks."

* * *

"So we just have to remember that she's honestly confused." Logan sucked up the last of his Coke as he waved a hand to articulate (narrowly missing the napkin holder). "She probably really believes Dean's cock-and-bull story about a shapeshifter being the one to attack her, because that would mean that she can separate herself from the pain of Sam's betrayal and rationalise away the memories of Dean's torture."

"I don't blame her. Poor Becky!"

"Yes. But don't you let her hear you saying that. Pity would, I think, be counter-productive in this endeavour. She wants to be understood, not pitied."

Ernie still couldn't believe that they were psychoanalysing one of their best friends like she was a resident cracker that he had been assigned the case of. It just added the surrealism of the whole situation. How had his life gone from Normal Rockwell to the funny farm overnight?

"So, Candy!" Logan called, flashing his 'I'm-a-single-bachelor-with-an-intellectual-degree' grin. "Can we get those burgers to go now?"

"Right away. I'll just tell Joe to go shift his butt and get the fries all crispy for you!"

"You're the best."

She grinned and darted back into the kitchen while Logan dug his wallet out of his pocket and counted out a _generous _tip. Ernie chewed on an icecube thoughtfully and leaned back in his seat. Life may have gone to Hell, but at least he still had some friends to count on. And maybe this truly had been a bit mistake. Maybe Becky would have the answers.

The two men at the counter (the ones in plaid who looked to be mainly made up of shoulders and hair) were chatting softly as they picked at their food. they did _not _look happy with the service and Ernie wrinkled his nose as the shorter one sneered at a burger. Come on! They couldn't be _that _bad! Becky wouldn't have recommended the place if the food wasn't really good. She had a _thing _about wasting calories on junk food that was low-quality that they had all made fun of for the four years of college. What did Holey-Jeans know?!


	10. We Won't Go Gently Into That Night

.

* * *

Ernie sucked Coke through the bendy-straw thoughtfully. It's hard not to drink thoughtfully whenever you're down to the dregs and trying to get the last drops without embarrassingly-loud slurping ensuing. Across from him, Logan had no such worries and tipped up his cup to noisily chew on the ice.

"Dude...seriously?"

Logan just shrugged. "No point in wasting anything."

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes to the kitchen and back (It was just _ice_!), Ernie finished his drink and pushed the cup towards his friend. "There...d'you wanna recycle my ice too?"_  
_

"Hell no!" Logan wrinkled his nose. "You've probably back-washed into it!"

Ernie shrugged. "As you please."

They sat in pleasant silence for a while (Candy was in the kitchen, getting their carry-out), just enjoying the peaceful feeling of being in each other's company again for the first time in so long. It was almost like old times and Ernie could almost forget just _why _they were all together.

Those two hulking lumberjacks were still sitting at the counter, picking at their food disinterestedly. Mutilating it, actually.

Even as he wrinkled his nose at the shorter one's treatment of a rather nice-looking hamburger, Ernie couldn't help but listen in on their conversation. It was just too strange, once he caught a bit of it...

"...Dead plants with creamy goo. It's like eating self-righteousness. I mean, you tell me which is worse."

_What on earth? If he doesn't like salads, then why the hell did he order one? _Ernie couldn't turn his ear away. This was most intriguining, especially whenever shorter, broader dude started expounding on a co-worker of theirs or something.

"I mean, honestly, I just... You know what? I can't stand the guy. Talk about a hero complex. And he doesn't have relationships. No, he has applications for sainthood. Oh, and he thinks he's funny. He thinks he's a damn comedian." Shorter Lumberjack twirled an uneaten fry for emphasis.

Taller Lumberjack snorted. "Who has two thumbs and full-blown bats in the belfry?" He used both hands to make a rather sharp gesture towards himself and Ernie raised an eyebrow. The guy was calling himself insane? Well maybe he was joking...it's not like he was trying to plead 'guilty but mentally unstable' or anything. Or was he? "I'm serious. It's nothing but Satan-vision on the inside. I mean, how he's walking around in a jacket with detachable arms is beyond me."

_O...kay? _Was he seriously referring to himself in third person?! Ernie wiggled a finger in his ear and exchanged a look with Logan. "You getting this?" He mouthed.

Logan immediately tuned in as Taller Lumberjack went on, now apparently reminiscing."You know, I had a brother with this many issues once. Know what I did?"

"Hmm?"

"I ate him."

Ernie almost fell off his seat as the shorter of this bizarre (and probably schizophrenic) duo replied to that shocking admission of cannibalism with a matter-of-fact, "Of course you did."

Exchanging a wide-eyed look with Logan, Ernie shrank back in his seat a bit...moving away from the disturbed jokers on the bar stools.

"Oh my God." Logan muttered. "That _can't _be for real!"

"It's probably some kind of private joke or something."

"Yeah. Must be."

The two friends shared a commiseratory shudder. Why couldn't they have listened in on the guys joking about their fetishes or porn preferences? Why did it have to be the nutballs with one foot in the SuperMax and the other foot in the Asylum?

Logan shook his head. "Life just gets stranger and stranger, eh?"

Shorter Lumberjack shifted just then and turned around, looking at a skinny kid in the booth behind Ernie and Logan. "Hey, kid. Hey. Why don't you fire up the camera on that thing?"

Ernie's heart stopped and leapt into his mouth as the kid sneered and Shorter Lumberjack responded by pulling a rather intimidating gun out of his jacket. _Oh God...oh God...oh GOD! This can't be happening!_

"Point it over here."

* * *

Gunfire cutting through the confusion of the screams of innocent victims and the spatters of blood painting the scenery red.

_God_. Surely this was Hell. Surely this was the product of the Pit...a place where the depravity of the fallen reigned supreme and the presence of the Holy shied away in revulsion. This was no longer a homey diner on a quiet afternoon. No. It was now the darkness and slaughter of a warzone-turned-massacre.

Ernie cowered back against the wall, covering his face with his hands as the two psychopaths (who had clearly not been entirely joking about murder) ruthlessly gunned down the patrons of the bar person by person. There was a kind of cold, terrible method to their madness as they chose victims at random and mowed them down efficiently. _Oh God_...there was no escape. Maybe they would overlook him? What could be done?

Candy had been the first to die as the shorter man shot her through the throat, her dying scream cut off into a wet, choking gurgle as the bullets cut through windpipe and arteries.

"Well well...what have we here?"

Ernie heard Logan gasp and looked up into the cold, shark-like eyes of Sam Winchester.

_Oh God! _It was like a dream come true...a dream turned into a nightmare.

It was true. It was all true. Sam, their beloved Sam, no longer existed. Those dimpled grins and puppy-dog eyes had fooled them all, perfectly concealing the blackened heart of the psycho who lived underneath.

He grinned. "Hello there, boys, long time no see!"

There was a squeaking curse from Logan as he scrabbled to get away from Sam and the gun held so comfortably in his big hand.

"Sam...listen." Ernie said, swallowing the lump in his dry throat and trying to quell the quaver. "Listen...I...I know you don't want to do this."

Sam raised his gun and carelessly shot a little girl through the skull. "Oh? Don't I?" He asked innocently, clearly enjoying this.

"Look. Whatever Dean has on you...whatever he did. Let us help. We're your friends, Sam."

"Hmmm..." Sam stroked his chin, contemplating the offer dramatically while the screams and gunfire sounded out in the background. "Sorry, but no. I'm afraid I'll have to turn you down. Sam Winchester is a psychopath, after all...not the sort of man you'd want to be associating with."

_Dear Lord! He _was _referring to himself in the third person. Had he had a complete break with reality?_ "We can help, really. We want to, right, Logan?" Ernie sneaked a glance at Logan who nodded, whiter than a sheet. "So stop it. You don't have to do this, Sammy."

That had been the wrong thing to say.

Sam's eyes narrowed and he raised the gun. "Don't. Call. Me. Sammy." He growled, face splitting into an empty smile as he squeezed the trigger.

Two rounds. One into Logan (he died mercifully quickly) and one for Ernie.

The bullets tore into his flesh, piercing bone and sinew and organs. White-hot pain seared through his body and he gasped desperately for air, flopping down like a fish left on the sand to die. He needed to puke, the pain turning his stomach and bile choking him. _"Oh God, save me!" _He cried out in his heart as the chill of shock set in and the edges of his sight began to darken.

Sam turned away and glared at the poor kid videoing the entire bloodbath. "Hey! Hey, hey, hey, hey! Keep that up! I didn't say you could put that down! I want the whole world to know what Sam and Dean Winchester are capable of!"_  
_

That was the last thing Ernie Burt heard before the blackness took him and he slipped away from this life, dead at Sam Winchester's hands.

* * *

**Author's Note:** _I am so, SO sorry about this. Well...sort of. Well...kinda not at all? I mean, if Kripke and the rest can get away with doing it to us than I jolly well can too! But I apologise, all the same. _


	11. Epilogue: Beyond The Pearly Gates

.

* * *

**Author's Note: **_Yes, dear readers, there is an epilogue. You don't really think that I would let this story end on THAT note, do you? _

* * *

There was no long tunnel of light, no out-of-body experience, no slide-show of life's greatest hits and regrets...just one minute the pain of the bullets and the next minute the sensation of a hard floor beneath his back and the smell of old wood, well-worn leather, and the other scents associated with a rustic bar.

_"Well this is strange." _He had been expecting more angelic singing or demonic laughter (or maybe the Grim Reaper), but not this. He lay there for a while, just trying to calm the rushing of his heart and acclimate himself to the strange new environment.

"So...are you gonna open up your eyes any time soon? We all know you're awake."

Ernie opened his eyes, only to be confronted by an odd clown of a man dressed in an orange plaid vest and sporting the cheesiest mullet Ernie had EVER seen!

He ruffled said mullet and grinned. "Look...the Sleepy Beauty awakens!"

There was a snort from out of Ernie's line of vision. "He's always been a bit groggy in the mornings and it looks like it hasn't changed much."

_Wait...that was Logan! _"What the HELL?!" Ernie sat up with a jerk and looked over to his friend (who was dressed in a Stanford hoodie and lounging against the bar). "Are we...are we dead?"

"Oh glory you're a cheerful one." Mullet-Boy heaved a gusty sigh and sat down on the pool table. "Yes. You are dead."

"But...but what about my family? My friends? What about _Bethany_?!"

"Geeze, dude," Logan said, shrugging apologetic. "I'm not exactly happy about leaving poor Becky in the lurch like that either, but it isn't like we can do much about it."

Mullet-Boy grinned. "Yup. Ain't much any of us can do about it whenever a few fuglies torch our asses." He popped open a can of beer and sucked through the bottom. "You're lucky though, kid. Your reaper owed me a few...personal favours and so I managed to talk her into depositing your ass right here in my humble abode."

"Um, yeah, thanks." Ernie rubbed his head. _Wait a second..._ "Reaper?!"_  
_

"Mmmmhmmm. Angels of death, sort of. It's their jobs to escort souls to the eternal destination, either upstairs or down. I just know Veronica personally and pulled a few strings to get her to bring you right here."

"And...where is here?" Ernie looked around apprehensively. Granted his mother had always said that Hell would be more about eternal damnation than poker games, but judging by the liqueur bottles stashed around the destination at the end of the highway downstairs was more than likely.

Mullet-Boy waved a hand. "Welcome to the Roadhouse Afterlife!" He said, chucking his empty beer can into a corner where it promptly vanished and reappeared, fully-filled, on a shelf. "Dr. Ash Badass is my name and hacking angel radio is my game."

Ernie exchanged a look with Logan. What was he to say to _that_?!

Dr. Ash Badass flipped his mullet and Ernie gaped. "So...I'm in Heaven?"

"Yup."

* * *

Ernie sat by the bar with Logan, watching 'Ash' fiddle with a ridiculously souped-up 'celestial' computer. God was this the weirdest thing ever to happen to him! He hadn't believed much in the afterlife while he was still..._alive_, but whenever he had this had NOT been what he pictured!

He also hadn't expected to die this way. Killed by Sam Winchester? Ha! If anyone had told him that about six years ago he would have laughed his ass off. Big, doe-eyed, clumsy puppy Sam? Puh-leese!

It didn't seem so unlikely now. He was dead. Sam had killed him. Oh God. He was dead. Sam had killed him. Oh God. He was dead...

"Ernie, are you okay?"

Ernie blinked and saw both Logan and Ash staring at him. He realised (much to his embarrassment) that he had been rocking back and forth and muttering like a mental patient. "Ummm...sorry?"

Ash chuckled, scratching his nose. "Naw, no problem, dude." He said, punching the 'Enter' button. "Everyone has that reaction whenever they first get up here. And ever since the Apocalypse there's no angels around to help you through transition (or any that you'd want to)."

Somehow Ernie's brain waxed over the revelation that angels do indeed exist (he _was _in Heaven, after all, if Ash of the Mullet could be trusted) and instead fixated on the news that apparently the Apocalypse had already happened?

That comment pushed Ash into a full-on belly laugh as he collapsed against the bar and laughed until tears welled up in his eyes. "Sweet hippity, hoppity Christ on a cracker!" He cackled. "I've forgotten what it's like for those out of the loop."

"Huh?"

"Oh yeah, Muppet-boy, the Apocalypse happened. Couple years ago, in fact."

Ernie was quite sure that his lower jaw was scraping the floor and a glance at Logan showed that the former councillor was doing his best bug-eyed owl impersonation.

"What?"

"Yup. I would try to explain more, but as soon as I get this here piece of technology up and running..." He trailed off as he plugged a flashdrive into the side and slapped the top of the screen._  
_

"What?"

"Just a sec..." Ash gave the contraption one more jostle and then turned back to Logan and Ernie. "Look. I've been watching you two - "

"Mildly creepy sounding." Logan said, shifting to get a look at that computer.

Ash held up a hand. "Hey, hey...don't look at me like that. I'm not a pervert _or _a guardian angel or any shit like that. All I want to show you is the true story of the Winchesters. That's why I asked Veronica to bring you here."

"The 'true' story?" Ernie asked sceptically.

Dr. Badass nodded. "Yeah. The true story of two boys, a kickass car, and a whole lot of fuglies." He pressed a button on the computer and handed out beers. "Watch."

_"...say good-night to your brother, Dean..."_

* * *

**_Finish _**


End file.
